


Like, Romantically

by Filmsterr



Series: Romantically [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Boyfriends, Crushes, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Castiel, M/M, Sickness, a little smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 08:56:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7568026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filmsterr/pseuds/Filmsterr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas was definitely a strange one. Social interactions were not necessarily his “thing”. People didn’t really take to him easily— but Dean did. Those things that annoyed other people, they were the things he liked best. Cas questioned everything. He never just accepted things as they were, and Dean found that appealing. And he was so different from anyone else that Dean had ever met: he never faked anything, never pretended. Everything about Cas was one hundred percent genuine. </p><p>Dean knew from the very first day that there was something intriguing about the strange, quiet, proper boy with the bright blue eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The Winchesters were just getting ready for dinner when the doorbell rang. Mary was setting the  places at the table, so she sent Sam to answer the door. He groaned but pattered off into the foyer anyways. Dean was bounding down the stairs just as his little brother turned the knob. 

Sam spun around with a puzzled look on his face. “There’s no one there?” he said to his brother.

Dean descended the rest of the staircase and pushed gently past his brother, rolling his eyes. “Yes, there is.” He moved onto the porch and twisted his head in both directions. _Ah, of course. There he is._

In the far corner of the porch, a young man was staring at the gutter of the Winchester home, seemingly lost to the rest of the world. He was like that sometimes. It was late autumn now and Kansas was getting colder everyday, so the boy was bundled up in layers, arms crossed over his chest to keep his body warmth contained. 

Dean laid one hand gently one each of the boy’s shoulders. The young observer didn’t flinch. “Hello,” Dean’s voice was soft when he spoke. 

“You have birds nesting in a crevice of your home,” came the reply. Dean sighed, smiled, and used his hands to direct the shoulders (and the petite body attached) back into the warm house.

“We sure do, buddy.”

They stopped at the foot of the stairs. Dean maneuvered his walking partner to turn around so that they were face-to-face. His nose has turned slightly pinkish from the cold wind. His gloved hands reached up to remove the knit cap from his head; underneath, a mop of dark brown hair exposed itself, tousled adorably. Dean moved his hand up to glide his fingers through. “Can I take your coat?” he offered politely. 

The other boy nodded. Together they began to unbutton his large coat and pull some of the protective coating off of his body. As each layer came off, Dean hung it up on a hook by the door. When they finished and the only layer that remained on the visitor’s small frame was a plain grey sweater, Dean turned around and lifted one of his arms to grasp the other’s elbow. 

“Hello, Cas,” he whispered, though he didn’t intend his voice to be so quiet. 

“Hello, Dean,” returned the guest, whose voice was naturally low and soothing. 

And with that, Dean leaned forward ever so gently to press his lips against Cas’, so pink and sweet and plump from the harsh cold outside. Nothing too hot or heavy (not with his mother in the kitchen), just a moment of chaste affection.

He pulled his head back to find two clear blues eyes staring right through him, a little quirk twitching at the edges of those lips. It wasn’t always the easiest thing to pull a smile from Castiel, but a quick kiss from Dean almost always did the trick. 

“Eugh,” came a voice groaning from the end of the hall. Both boys looked up to see young Sam standing at the entrance to the kitchen, his face scrunched up in disgust. “Get a room.”

“Sam, don’t be inappropriate,” his mother scolded as she approached from behind. A look of joy came over her face when she laid eyes on the two in the doorway. “Hey, Cas!” she called cheerfully. 

“Hello, Mrs. Winchester,” he said, his face once again becoming serious— but not unhappy. 

Mary laughed. She must have told him a hundred times to call her by her first name, but- oh well. “You’re just in time, we’re about to sit down to dinner. Sam, go set another place for Cas.”

“Why do I have to do everything?” Sam whined. “He’s not my guest.”

But Dean was already brushing past him into the dining room, one hand clasping Cas’, pulling him along. With his free hand, he tousled Sammy’s long hair. Dean always teased him about it, but actually he thought it suited his brother. What with that weird shaped head and all. 

“Guess that’s what happens when you’re the youngest, kiddo.”

“Not fair.”

“Life’s not fair.”

“Hey!” interrupted their mother. “I don’t care who does it- someone set a place for Cas.”

Cas removed his hand from Dean’s to raise a finger, as if he were asking permission to speak. “I could always retrieve the plate myself.”

Dean and Mary both locked eyes on him in the same instant and firmly said, “No,” in unison. Cas put his finger down. Dean begrudgingly returned to the kitchen, taking the opportunity to smack Sam on the head on the way. 

“Mom!” Sam cried. Mary shook her head and invited Castiel to take a seat. 

Luckily, the brotherly tension was short-lived and dissolved as soon they started eating. Sam let Dean take the extra baked potato, which seemed to alleviate any lingering grudges. Cas, as an only child, was fascinated by the sort of gift-giving gestures that seemed to be a part of sibling interaction. He questioned Dean about the trade as if it were an anthropological study. 

“So the potato was an act of good faith from Sam?” He is whispering, so that Dean is the only one who can hear him. Mary and Sam are chatting in the background. 

“Mmhmm,” Dean humored him, biting into a piece of chicken. 

“Did it have to be a potato?”

“No. Could have been anything.”

“Like a non-food item?”

Dean looked over at the boy beside him and smiled. “Sure.”

Cas was definitely a strange one. Social interactions were not necessarily his “thing”. People didn’t really take to him easily— but Dean did. Those things that annoyed other people, they were the things he liked best. Cas questioned _everything_. He never just accepted things as they were, and Dean found that appealing. And he was so different from anyone else that Dean had ever met: he never faked anything, never pretended. Everything about Cas was one hundred percent genuine. 

Dean knew from the very first day that there was something intriguing about the strange, quiet, proper boy with the bright blue eyes. 

 

———

 

It had been in Literature class, a few months before. Their teacher had assigned a project that was intended to be done in pairs. Dean wasn’t hurting for friends in his classes, so he had no worries about getting stuck with someone undesirable. He could work with Benny, or Charlie, or Anna, or Adam….

He was mentally listing off all of his potential partners when he turned around and nearly tripped over a body. Dean sucked in a hiss of air. There he was. 

He was a little shorter than Dean and wearing this strange, floppy overcoat and his expression was fairly stone-faced. It wasn’t that there was anything particularly shocking about him as a person, it was just… Well, Dean had no idea who he was. He had never seen this human before. 

“Would you like to be my partner for the assignment?” he asked Dean. His face remained expressionless, like a robot, and his voice seemed almost like it didn’t match up with his appearance. Here was this low, gravelly sound like an old record, coming out of this little package with these shiny blue eyes that looked like infinity pools. 

Dean didn’t know how long he just looked at him- he felt like he was transfixed or something. It wasn’t until he heard his name that he ripped his eyes away from this brand new palette. 

“Dean?”

It was Benny, standing behind the blue-eyed robot, wearing his usual wide grin. “Partners?”

“Uh,” Dean just then noticed that he was smiling too, a kind of half-smile that stemmed from a place of utter confusion, “Sorry, Benny. I’m working with…”

He lowered his eyes to the person in front of him. 

“Castiel.” 

“Castiel,” Dean repeated, enjoying the way that the name played on his lips. 

 

———

 

The first time that Castiel brought him home, Dean began to see where all the pieces of the Cas puzzle fell into place. 

His house looked sort of like a display case: it had all the makings and accessories of a home, but it looked untouched, as if no one really lived there. When they sat down to dinner with his parents, everything started to make even more sense. 

Both of his parents were academics. His father taught some kind of advanced science at the university a few towns over, and his mother taught Theology. Which, if nothing else, explained the roots of his unconventional name. 

It wasn’t that they seemed incapable of love or affection or…. any basic emotion, really. It was more like they were highly evolved, and they found those things to be an inefficient use of time. They didn’t even like to use any more words than they deemed necessary when they spoke. It made their dinner together one of the most terrifying and wonderful things Dean had ever seen.

“Salad?” said Mrs. Novak curtly. Her husband passed a bowl her way wordlessly. “Thank you.”

Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun. Her posture was excellent, Dean noticed, as was Mr. Novak’s. And even, as he saw now, Castiel’s. Mrs. Novak stretched her neck toward her son. “Castiel, school?”

“Fine,” he answered quickly. 

“Work?”

“Not too much.”

Dean’s head was volleying between the action of the table, eyes following whoever was speaking. It was like a game of tennis, the control switching hands so quickly. He couldn’t fight the little smile of amazement that was creeping over his face.

It was then that she took notice of him for the first time. “Friend?”

“Classmate. Dean.”

Dean smiled excitedly. Now it was his turn. _Yay!_ He cleared his throat before he spoke. “Hi, Mrs. Novak— Mr. Novak. I’m Dean, I’m in Cas’ English class at school and we’re working on a project together. I just wanted to say thanks for letting me come to dinner and— and that you have a lovely home.”

As Cas’s mother stared at him, her face pulled back into a tight smile. She looked over at her husband, whose face held a similarly forced smile. Castiel was staring at Dean like he was crazy. 

A minute later, Mr. Novak broke the silence. “Broccoli?” he said. His wife passed him a plate without speaking. “Thank you.”

Dean could have watched it go on all night. 

Up in his room, the only music Cas had was his record collection; which Dean actually found really cool, but he wasn’t sure if Cas realized that. It wasn’t that he had records because he thought that they were cool and vintage or anything like that— more like that was the latest musical technology he was acquainted with. And his records weren’t any cool older bands like the Ramones or AC/DC or anything Dean would listen to with his dad. 

“Nocturne in B-Flat Minor,” Dean read aloud is a very skeptical voice. “Fr…”

“Frédéric Chopin,” Castiel finished for him. He was sitting on the bed, leafing through the book of poems that their teacher had assigned for the project to be done. 

“It’s classical?” Dean questioned innocently.

“Yes, it’s classical.”

“And you like that?”

“Yes. I like that.”

Dean placed the record back where he found it. He stood up and started to examine the pictures on Cas’s walls instead. “Did you take these?” he asked, staring at the black and white photos of bleak landscapes that lined the walls. 

“No. Ansel Adams did.”

Dean paused. “Is he famous?”

“I would say so.” 

He sighed. Talking to Cas was like cracking a walnut. But Dean really liked walnuts, so… He took a seat next to Cas on the bed. “You are very unique. Do you realize that?”

Cas didn’t answer, but Dean could tell that he had stopped reading the book. “I think it’s really cool,” he added hastily. “Everyone else likes the same things and talks about the same stuff, and sometimes they don’t even really like it, they just pretend to.” A slightly autobiographical addendum. 

“What is the benefit in that?” 

Cas had raised his gaze from the book in his lap so that now he was looking right into Dean’s eyes. Dean had already noticed that sometimes Cas’ stare could be a little… powerful, for lack of a better word. But instead of reading it as ‘creepy’ like some people had told him, he found himself pulled in by it. When Cas fixed those wide, innocent eyes on him, Dean felt this rush come over him that he didn’t want to lose. 

“Benefit in what?” he heard himself murmur.

“In pretending to enjoy certain things just because a majority of others do?” Cas tilted his head. 

Dean shrugged. “Friendship. Acceptance.”

“Ah,” Cas sighed. “Well. Those I can do just fine without.”

He dropped his gaze back down to his hands and adjusted his posture on the bed. Dean scooted a little bit closer to him. “It doesn’t bother you at all?” he asked gently. He didn’t have to spell it out explicitly - Cas knew what he was getting at. 

He brought his eyes back up to meet Dean’s, but faltered, averted them again. “No. It doesn’t bother me. Which poet do you want to work with?”

Dean followed Castiel closely for the rest of the evening, watching his movements and listening to the words he chose. He hated when he had to leave; he wanted to stay at the Novaks' until he knew every single thing there was to know about Castiel.

 


	2. Chapter 2

When Dean tried to tell his friends about Cas, they did not understand at all. And really, Dean couldn’t explain it. 

“He’s got that weird, intense way of staring at people,” Jo said warily. 

“It’s just ‘cus he’s curious,” Dean defended, “It’s inquisitive.”

“And he’s so quiet,” added Benny.

Dean rolled his eyes. “He’s always thinking. He only says what he needs to.” But they all kept staring at him with those big eyes denoting some kind of bullshit concern. “I can’t describe- it’s just a feeling! I get a really good feeling from him.”

“Well, then,” Tessa said, standing up as the lunch bell rang to signal the end of their free time, “maybe you should tell him instead of us.”

Dean stayed seated for another few moments as the crowd dissipated around him. After some consideration, he nodded his head and stood up with renewed determination. 

At the end of the day, he left his own class a couple of minutes early so he could be waiting outside the exit he knew Cas would have to go through to get home. He stood and waited for a long time, watching dozens of people flood out the doors— but none of them the boy with the oversized coat and the distinctive bedhead. He was just about to give up hope when, after twenty minutes of waiting, he finally saw that small frame appear in the hallway. 

He leaned against the doorway, trying to look cool and aloof, but also wanted his face to look warm and inviting, like he was open for conversation. As he was adjusting himself, trying to capture the perfect appearance, Castiel walked by him without a second glance. Dean practically tripped over himself chasing after him. 

“Wait. Cas!”

Castiel stopped in the middle of the walkway and turned around. The school parking lot was essentially deserted at this point. He said nothing, but raised his eyebrows as if giving Dean permission to continue. 

“I, um…. can you talk for a minute?” Dean sputtered.

“I have a piano lesson,” was all that Cas said.

Dean squinted at the boy in front of him. “Can you skip it?”

That made Castiel look at Dean with that scrunched up face, the crinkle between his eyebrows, that Dean has since come to know as one of his favorite things on Earth. “Fine, fine,” Dean relented. “I’ll walk with you. Walk and talk.”

The trip to Cas’s house wasn’t a long one- maybe fifteen minutes- but in Dean’s mind it dragged on and on for hours as he made up different things he pretended he had to tell Cas, and he could feel those big blue eyes boring into him, never leaving his face which made it very hard to think of new fake topics of important conversation. 

When they walked by the post office near Cas’ house, Dean decided it is all just too much to take. He stopped where he was in the street and grabbed Cas with both his hands, nudging him back slightly until they were just out of view of the street. 

“Are you into guys?” he demanded to know. It definitely wasn’t the smooth line he had imagined, but it’s what had come out, so, okay, he’d have to roll with it. 

Castiel was still staring at him, but now looked really lost and a little scared and frustrated, like he was supposed to understand but most certainly, definitely did not. 

“Y’know, like, romantically,” Dean continued. “Like boyfriend-girlfriend. But just boyfriends.”

Cas’ eyes practically bugged out of his head. This question seemed like it had sprung up from absolutely nowhere. “I don’t know” he spat out quickly. “I suppose I’ve never had much of a distinction when it came to—”

That was good enough for Dean. He tightened his grip on the boy in front of him and brought their faces crashing together, lips locking into place. Dean tried to work his lips against Cas’, but the smaller boy’s body remained tense. A few seconds later, Dean pulled his face back and slowly opened his eyes. 

If he thought Cas had looked confused before Dean wasn’t ready at all for the expression he was wearing now. He was sort of hanging, because Dean was gripping his shirt so tight and his hands were raised a little too high for Cas. And his face was just really scrunched and contorted into this look like he was really out of his element and he had no idea what the hell was going on. But he didn’t speak. So Dean had to be the one to do it.

“I… like you, Cas.” He stated simply.

Cas narrowed his eyes. “Most people don’t.”

“But I do.”

Dean loosened his grip on Castiel’s shirt. He relaxed his gaze, which he was sure was a little intense, and he looked to Cas with his most pleading eyes. “I can’t explain it. I just do. I mean, I am... fascinated by you.”

“I am fascinated by bees,” retorted Cas. “That doesn’t mean I am attracted to them.”

“Yes, but I _am_ attracted to you.”

A pause. 

“Romantically?”

“Yes,” Dean sighed. “Romantically.”

That’s when Cas’ features began to soften. He became much harder to read, and Dean began to doubt himself. But then, something changed behind Cas' eyes. It was as if a barrier came crumbling and a new light was shining through. Dean hoped that new light was maybe something like... trust. His hope was stoked when Cas leaned in to press his lips against Dean's, who was only happy to comply. 

They moved slow, mouths parting to deepen the kiss. Dean could tell that Cas had never kissed anyone before from the timid way his tongue moved out of his mouth into Dean’s. That was okay though. Dean found it impossibly cute. He moved his arms down, letting his hands rest gently on his partner’s hips. 

Castiel was the one who broke the embrace. He pulled his head back and raked his eyes over Dean’s face. Dean was feeling nervous and it was painted onto his face. Cas’s own face melted into a smile and he breathed out the sweetest little barely-detectable laugh. 

That was the first time Dean had ever seen Cas smile. 

 

———

 

After that, things moved along pretty smoothly. Cas joined Dean’s circle of friends at the lunch table and other social gatherings; it was an icy welcome at first (especially from some people) but eventually they started to take to him. Not in the same emphatic way Dean had, but they learned to like Cas all the same. 

Dean’s mom immediately had a soft spot for Cas. She saw him as a wounded deer in need of 17 years worth of maternal affection, and she was happy to give it to him. Cas really seemed to appreciate it, albeit on some deep down subconscious level. It was still hard to crack a smile out of him, walnut that he was— but second to Dean, Mary was the most likely person for the job. 

Cas’ parents, on the other hand, took little notice of Dean. Sure, they recognized him as another body at the dinner table, and they probably took stock of the fact that he was really the only person outside the family that made frequent appearances at their home. That didn’t much bother either of the boys, though— it only meant that they were left in peace when they wanted to be alone upstairs. And Cas’ parents didn’t have the same “Bedroom Door Open” policy that Dean’s mom enforced. 

_What did she think, one of them was going to get pregnant?_

Dean laughed about the ridiculousness of the rule in a boy-on-boy relationship. But of course, they hadn’t even had sex yet, so it didn’t really matter. 

Truth be told, Dean was a little nervous about it. He actually hadn’t had sex with _anyone_ yet, but for some reason he was pretty sure that Cas thought otherwise. Mostly because Dean had sort of implied otherwise, at one point when the topic came up and he was feeling a little insecure.

But now he was feeling even more insecure because he now he had to live up to this expectation and he just liked Cas a lot and he wished he had kept his stupid trap shut. 

Luckily for him, things had been progressing slowly so far, in the bedroom department. There was lots of kissing, which they were both huge fans of. Cas could be unexpectedly affectionate for someone who came from a family of apparent robots. There was also a fair amount of touching— light touching, mostly above the belt kind of stuff. 

Cas was very new to all this and he asked Dean if they could just take things at their own rate, not go rushing into things before it was time. Dean had heaved a very relieved sigh and told his boyfriend that he would be willing to do that. For him. 


	3. Chapter 3

One day in the spring they made plans to go to the local Botanical Gardens. Cas had never been and Dean knew he would just love it— there were all kinds of wild flowers there, which meant that there were lots of birds and bees and all of those things that Cas loved to watch (and Dean loved to watch Cas watch). 

Not five minutes after they had stepped off Cas’ front porch did the sky begin to open up and shower down on them. Not one of those light, refreshing springs showers— no, this was one of those days where the sky goes from clear blue to biblical in a matter of seven minutes. Needless to say, the Botanical Garden plans were shot. 

“If we’re not going out,” Cas said to Dean as he closed the front door behind them, “I’d like to work on my college applications a bit more.”

“Fine by me,” answered Dean, wringing out the water from his sleeve. 

They marched up to Cas’ bedroom on the second floor. The decorating scheme, as one could guess, was monotone and very minimalist. Dean loved it. He threw himself onto the grey bed that sat against a grey wall while Cas sank into the black swivel chair that sat next to his desk. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean watched as Cas opened up his laptop, his face set with determination. And though it only appeared for a fraction of a second, Dean saw Cas’ agile fingers click the “x” of an ad on his computer. A very distinctive ad. One that almost made Dean’s eyes pop out of his head. 

He let a few minutes go by before he decided to mention anything. He put down the book that he was pretending to flip through and tried to act as casual as possible. “Hey, Cas?”

“Dean?” Castiel replied in a very even tone, not moving his eyes the screen. 

“You…” 

And Dean was about to just blurt it out, the question primed at the tip of his tongue, but then he got nervous, so he had to ask his way around it instead. “You’re on the internet a lot, right?”

“I am familiar with the concept.” Cas continued typing away. 

Dean rolled onto his stomach. “Do you ever watch porn?”

Now _that_ gave Cas pause, but only for the quickest instant, before he returned his full attention to his task at hand. He answered with a simple, “Yes.”

“ _You do_?” Dean sat straight up, like he’d received an electric shock. He tried to contain the amount of surprise in his voice, but that proved more difficult than he would have thought. After all, this was Cas. His Cas. His innocent Cas whose favorite thing in the world was staring at bees and plants and definitely not naked people. So when did this happen?

The swivel chair squeaked as Cas turned around to look his boyfriend in the eyes. “Don’t _you_?” he turned the question back around. 

“Of course,” Dean practically scoffed. 

Cas raised his eyebrows. “Well, then,” he began to twist his chair back towards the laptop, obviously finding this conversation intolerably ridiculous, “why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, I guess just because you’re so w—”

Dean stopped himself immediately. Castiel had stopped his chair mid-spin and cranked his head back toward the bed, so Dean could only see half of his face. But that was all he needed to see. Cas was waiting for him to finish his thought. 

There was nothing Cas hated more in the world than being called “weird” and Dean knew that. It wasn’t because he thought that there was anything inherently wrong with being weird- he didn’t, of course he didn’t. It was that everyone else did, and they thought that Cas belonged to that category of humanity- definitely, without a doubt. The worst part was that Cas had never really understood what it was that made him “weird” anyway, why everyone thought he was so different. All he knew was that was what everyone had always called him. Everyone except Dean.

“—wonderful and pure.” Dean saved himself with a smile. The tension relaxed from Cas’ shoulders. 

A silence dropped over the room for a few seconds. Neither of them felt exactly sure what to do now. It was a little uncomfortable. 

Taking a leap of faith, Dean leaned as far as he could off the bed and reached toward one of the arms on Cas’ chair, until he had a firm enough grip that he could pull the whole thing, Cas and all, toward him. 

“C’mere,” he murmured when he saw the resistance in Cas’ eyes. 

“What are you doing?” asked Cas in what he meant to be a much harder tone, but came out as a whisper. 

Dean’s face quirked up a bit as he pulled his boyfriend closer. “I wanna talk to you.”

By now the chair was against the bed and Cas was rolling his eyes. “I can talk to you perfectly well from a seated position, Dean.”

But despite himself, he allowed himself to be pulled up onto the bed and pushed into the pillows, where Dean positioned himself between his legs and got comfortable. He was giving Cas one of those looks, a kind of sly and sneaky look that was supposed to make Cas forget about everything that wasn’t Dean… which it mostly did. 

He moved his face up to Cas’ and began dotting kisses on every patch of skin he could find: his sweet little nose, and his soft cheeks, and his chin and his lips. Cas initially tried to play dead, but his tolerance as a human (specifically an adolescent male) could only last so long. By the fifth time Dean brushed their lips together, his resistance had melted and he was kissing back with muted passion. 

Dean pulled back and gave a cheeky grin, leaning down to rub his nose against Cas’ cheek. “I have a few questions for you,” he tried his best at a sultry whisper. Only Cas’ heavy breathing came as a response. “What kind of… videos do you like to watch?”

“Dean.” Cas breathed out, almost as a warning. 

Dean giggled and laid a hand on his boyfriend’s thigh. “Come on,” he encouraged. “I think it’s sexy…”

“Sexy?” Castiel repeated the word, with a bit of shock and confusion laced on his tongue. “Me?”

“Yes, you. Very sexy.” Dean was moving his lips down to the skin of Cas’ neck, alternating between sucking and biting, lavishing little kisses along the way. Castiel felt a shiver travel through his body, from his shoulders down to his tailbone. He wriggled up against Dean. 

“Okay…” he relented at last, crumbling under the pressure of Dean’s very persuasive mouth.

“Excellent.” Dean smiled against his collarbone. “So, you were telling me about the videos…”

“There are all kinds.”

Dean’s fingers playing at the buttons of Cas’ shirt, his lips pressing to each newly exposed patch of skin. “A little more specific, please.”

“Sometimes they’re about pizza men… and babysitters…” He was losing his focus as his pants were growing tighter and tighter at the crotch. “…other times about… teachers a-and students…”

“So it’s always a guy and a girl.”

“I didn’t say that.”

Dean smiled and gave an extra bite to the soft skin of Castiel’s neck before he moved up to look him in the eyes again. He caught Cas’ lips between his, nipping the bottom lip between his teeth. A deep groan came from within Cas’ throat. While they tangled in each others’ mouths, Dean moved one of his hands to his boyfriend’s crotch, palming through his jeans. That earned him a high pitched moan which gave Dean the most devilish twinkle in his eye.

“And,” he asked in between fervent kisses, “what do… you do… while you’re watching these…videos?”

“ _Dean_ ,” Cas warned again, but this time his voice was more of a whine. Dean was reaching for his zipper now, bringing it down at an achingly slow pace. 

“Casti _el_ ,” Dean whispered against those pink, now slightly puffy lips. He placed an emphasis on the last syllable because he enjoyed the way it rolled off his tongue. Castiel must have agreed, from the way that his hips bucked up into Dean’s hand when he heard his name. 

This was new territory for them, but Dean didn’t feel at all nervous. Something about the heat of the moment was infecting his brain and the ‘off’ switch didn’t seem to be working. His pupils grew wide like he was high off the pheromones. The look of determination on his face had Cas reeling, half-hard just from the sight of him.

Cas’ zipper was down and Dean’s hand was reaching under his boxers now. Their eyes were locked on each other, only looking away to catch a glimpse of each others’ mouths as they parted, panted, tongues sneaking out to add moisture when they went dry. When Dean’s strong fingers wrapped around him, Castiel’s eyes fluttered shut and he sucked in a breath. It felt too good to be true. 

“God, you look so amazing,” cooed Dean. Cas could tell he was wearing that goofy smile, even with his eyes closed. 

Dean’s hands gave a few slow, encouraging jerks to Castiel’s cock, then withdrew his hand. Cas’ eyelids snapped open, his face looking surprised and pained by the sudden loss of contact. “Wha— no, don—“

He was hushed Dean’s lips crashing against his own again. Dean pressed himself fully against Castiel, leaning forward until their chests laid flat against each other and Cas’ head pressed back into the headboard, driving his tongue sloppily into his boyfriend’s mouth. Cas bucked his hips again, trying to remind Dean what he’d left unfinished. 

But Dean hadn’t forgotten. Oh no. While he occupied Cas’ mouth with his own, he snaked a hand over into the other boy’s, taking a firm hold and guiding it, down his torso, down his chest, over his thighs… when they grazed across Cas’ groin, he let out a lustful yelp, and Dean laid both their hands over Cas’ dick, wrapping their fingers tightly. Another desperate sound from Cas when Dean retracted his hand and lip.

Cas opened his mouth to ask a question, but nothing came out. Dean leaned in an answered anyway, voice thick and low against Cas’s ear. “I want to watch you.” The look on Cas’ face was shocked and mildly scandalized. 

Dean laid another sweet kiss against Cas’ cheek as he pulled his face way, but kept close. He liked being near Castiel right now, couldn’t bare to be even a few inches further away. Cas gave a whine at that, but he needed to feel something, needed to keep going. With very little trepidation, he began to move his hands again, tight around himself. The eye contact between them remained unbroken and intense. Dean was staring at him like he was prized art, something to be marveled at and beloved. It lit a fire in his stomach that drove him to work faster, grip tighter.

Soon there were hot little sounds falling from his lips that Dean could only describe as delicious. The first time Cas moaned his name _Oh, Dean_ , he was reaching down into his own pants and freeing himself, fucking into his hands while he balanced himself over Cas, watching the way Cas moved his hand, and bit his lips, and worked his tongue. 

“Oh, fuck, Cas,” Dean surged forward and locked his lips against Cas’ in another sloppy kiss. He felt close already and God it was so quick but between the sight of Cas and the sounds he was making, the live show was adding up to be too much for him. 

“Oh,” Cas moaned again. His movements were quicker and his voice higher. Dean could tell he was about to blow. He moved his face close to Castiel’s so he could be near him, feel the heat of his breath. When the sounds started to crescendo, Dean captured his mouth again and swallowed the noises, reveling in the experience of Cas is total rapture. 

It wasn’t long before Dean followed. When he moved his head back to take in the full sight of Cas, fully sated and drunk on lust, a dark feeling came over his whole body. He stared at Cas intensely, worked his hand faster and rougher. Something inside him made him reach out to brush Cas’s face. He moved his hand over the lips lightly, and then let two of his fingers dip inside. Cas put up no resistance, letting his tongue slide over the rough skin of Dean’s calloused fingers. Dean clenched his eyes shut and blew his load right then. 

When the tension faded, Dean realized his knees were giving out underneath him. He rolled over to his side, not bothering to zip up. Cas was breathing heavy, staring out into space. Dean picked up the dead weight of his arm and draped it over himself so he was nuzzled up to Cas’ side.

A few minutes later, Cas cleared his throat and said, “That’s certainly an interesting addition to the situation.” 

Dean chuckled and pressed his lips to Cas’ shoulder. He felt so totally content in that moment. 

Some time later Mary asked him at the dinner table why he and Cas had been spending such a great majority of their time at Cas’ house instead of hers. Dean tried very hard not to choke on his food. 

 


	4. Chapter 4

It was in the summer, just after school had let out, when everything came to a halt. 

Cas and Dean lay stretched out together on Dean’s bed, Cas leaning on Dean for support. They were both reading: Castiel, the lengthy biography of a lesser known revolutionary from France; Dean, a new-to-him Batman comic he’d recently acquired in a trade with Benny. The sun washed in through the windows and it had all the makings of yet another lovely, lazy afternoon. 

A pointed hum of interest came from Cas to break the peaceful silence of the room. Dean peaked over his shoulder to see what had caused the noise. 

“How’s your book?” he inquired softly. Cas gave a sort of thoughtful _hm_ in response. Dean raised an eyebrow. “That good, huh?”

Again, Cas acknowledged that he’d heard him, but only stared at the page with more concentrated focus, giving no verbal answer. Feigning irritation, Dean snaked an arm around his boyfriend’s neck to tug him in against Dean’s face, so he could plant a loud kiss against Cas’ temple. “Any chance you’ll give me a full sentence anytime soon?” he grumbled between sealed lips. 

At last Castiel relented into the affection. He sighed a breathy laugh and angled his head backward to allow Dean proper access to his mouth. “You are very needy for verbal affirmation.” 

“Damn right I am,” Dean answered shamelessly, pressing their lips together with added force. 

Just then came a knock at the door, immediately followed by Dean’s mother popping her head around the corner. She looked tired, worn. “Dean—” she began, only to be cut off by her eldest son. 

“Mom, the door wasn’t closed, it was only mostly closed and that was the wind and we weren’t even—”

She held up a hand that signaled him to shut his mouth. He did. Mary’s face softened into a smile, but Dean couldn’t help but notice that it seemed a little forced. “I think it’s time for Cas to go home.” 

Dean squinted at her from the bed, arm still locked around Cas’ neck. Cas was never sent home from the Winchester house. Mary and John were normally long since asleep by the time Dean would walk him home and say goodnight. This seemed peculiar. Mary, seemingly reading his face, explained. “We’re having a family meeting downstairs.”

Well, that wasn’t too out of the norm. Family meetings were an infrequent but familiar occurrence between the Winchester family. They’d had one when Grandpa Sam died, when Dean came out to his parents, when the boys were told that their parents were going to sell the cabin where they’d spent their childhood summers. 

Castiel removed himself from Dean’s embrace and stood quickly, smoothing his pants and looking at Mary with a stern expression. “Absolutely, Mrs. Winchester. I will be leaving immediately.”

Mary nodded gratefully at him. Dean rolled his eyes at the formality of it and grabbed Cas’ hand. “C’mon, then, I’ll walk you out.”

They descended the stairs together and walked past Sam and John, who were already waiting in the living room. Ever one for following expected social customs, Cas waved politely and greeted Dean’s father as they walked by. “Good afternoon, Mr. Winchester.”

John responded with a quick nod and a tight smile. Dean sighed heavily and lead Cas toward the door. 

His father had so far been the least receptive person in terms of Dean and Cas’ relationship. Dean figured he had enough time accepting that his first born son liked guys, and- on top of that- Cas was a very… different kind of guy. He couldn’t think of a single thing that Cas and his dad might have a shared interest in. Picturing his dad talking about poetry or birds or anything nature-y made him want to laugh. And trying to imagine Cas discussing classic cars or anything sports-related made him cringe. Still, it would be nice if his dad could make the effort. 

When they reached the door, Dean reached down for Cas’ hands and pulled it to his lips. “I’ll call you later tonight, alright?”

Cas nodded and said, “Alright.” Dean told him to get home safe. Then he closed the door and moved into the living room, where he began to notice the tears that were pooling in his father’s eyes. 

 

———

 

Later that night, Cas returned. Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, sobbing so hard he couldn’t see. 

“I can’t believe this,” he kept saying over and over. “He’s my dad. He’s my fucking dad, Cas. This isn’t supposed to happen.”

Cas was pacing back and forth in front of Dean. He was clearly uncomfortable, unsure of what to do with himself. Dean looked up at him pleadingly from behind his tear-soaked hands. “Cas, can you say something, please?” 

Cas grimaced, still pacing. “I— er…”

“Cas!”

“Yes. Sorry.” He stopped his frantic walking and took a seat next to Dean. He laid a hand stiffly on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “This is very bad news.”

“No shit.” Dean sniffled. His face was blotched with red from the force of his crying. “Fuck. I can’t…. I can’t believe it, man.”

“Pancreatic cancer.” Cas repeated the diagnosis aloud for the first time since Dean had told him almost twenty minutes ago. Dean visibly shuttered at the words. 

“Dean,” Cas continued, in a very strange voice that Dean could barely recognize, “you should know…”

He began to lose focus on Cas’ words. The light-headedness that follows intense emotional purging was taking over. 

“… the survival chances are very low from this particular type of cancer.”

“What the fuck did you just say?” Dean heard the words come out of his mouth before he registered them, but they sounded right. _What the fuck did he just say?_

Cas’ face faltered in a rare show of doubt (or any emotion, really) Dean had never seen from him before. He looked scared. Dean didn’t care. 

“Cas, what the fuck did you just say to me?” he repeated, standing up this time and letting his voice carry the full weight of his anger. 

“I thought you might want to know— I did some research before I came and the studies showed—“ He was cowering now, lost, drowning in unfamiliar territory. Dean grew more hostile the more Cas shrank into himself. 

“Fuck your studies!” He shouted. “This is my dad! He’s not some fucking… some fucking thing to be studied- he’s a human person _with a family_! Why would you— what the fuck is wrong with you?” He spat out his last question with an added venom that was building up inside him. 

Cas reacted as if he’d been physically slapped. He stayed quiet, diverted his eyes toward the ground. Dean could have stopped there, but he didn’t. It felt good to get the venom out, to release the anger and the hurt he was feeling. And he just couldn’t believe that Cas had tried to say those words out loud to him. 

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered in amazement. “You— you can’t even empathize with me right now, you- you fucking freak.”

The last word made Cas look up again and it was clear that something inside him had been crushed right then. “Dean,” he tried to speak but his voice failed him. 

“You god damn weirdo, fucking robot,” Dean wanted so badly to sob again but he coasted through on the rage. “Get out. Get out of my house.”

“Dean.”

“ _Get. Out. Now!”_

Dean did not even know who he was in the moment. It felt like he had blacked out from seething anger. He was aware that Cas left, stormed out with a look on his face that denoted the deepest kind of betrayal. But he didn’t care. He had bigger problems. 

When he heard the front door slam, Dean walked out into the hallway. He could hear the lonely cries coming from behind Sam’s bedroom door. He walked in without notice and went to his brother’s side. Held him close and rocked him and let Sam soak his shirt with tears. “It’s okay, Sammy,” he told him in a hushed voice. “It’s gonna be alright. Everything is gonna be okay. We’re gonna fix this. We’re gonna make it all okay.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

A week went by, and everything was calm again in the Winchester house. The boys were getting better everyday. Dean was running errands for his mother, making excuses to drag Sammy out of the house for short periods of time. They spent the evenings together as a family, eating dinner or watching movies, or going out on walks to the reservoir in town. John, strangely, was smiling more than Dean had ever seen him before. 

So things weren’t great, or perfect- but they were getting by. 

One afternoon, Dean and Sam were upstairs playing video games on the TV in Sam’s room. Dean was getting his ass handed to him, though he’d tell it differently, when their mother called to them from the bottom of the stairs. “Sam! Dean!”

Dean, more than happy to save himself the embarrassment of losing to a 13-year-old, bolted for the door, while Sam called out a whiny “hey!” from behind him. He bounced down the stairs and approached his mother cheerily. “Yeah, Mom?”

Mary turned to him, “Can you help me unload groceries from the car?”

“Sure.” He went out to her car and pulled three full bags from the trunk, making his way back toward the house. He barely missed a collision with Sam when the younger boy came bounding out of the house enthusiastically. 

“Watch where you’re going, dipstick!” Dean yelled as he spun on his heels. Sam tossed him a middle finger and Dean made a mental note to kick his ass when he was big enough for it. 

In the kitchen, he set the bags on the kitchen counter with a thud. “Think Sammy’s got the rest of ‘em,” he said. “Anything else you need, Mom?”

Mary spun around without looking at him. “No. Thank you, sweetie.”

And just when Dean thought he was off-the-hook and free to return to ‘letting Sam win’ at Mario Kart, his mother’s voice called from behind him. “You know, Dean…”

Dean quirked an eyebrow at her curiously. “Do I know what?”

Mary set her eyes on him and heaved a quiet sigh. “I haven’t seen Cas around the house for a while.”

He tried his best to remain absolutely still, but couldn’t stop himself from chewing on his bottom lip just a bit. 

“Did you two…”

“Mom, it’s honestly not a big deal.” He looked her directly in the face to show her just how okay he really was. “I’m fine.”

Mary stared right back at him. “Is he?”

At that, Dean jerked his eyes away. He locked eyes on a bag of groceries, pretended to read whatever was printed on the side. 

Mary sighed and pressed on. “I know that this is hard. I know that, it’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to this family. But… have you thought that maybe it’s hard for him, too?”

He scrunched his eyebrows, confused by the notion. But he knew his mother wanted a real answer, so he just shrugged his shoulders lamely. 

“You know Cas. You know he’s not… good with people.” A pause. “Wasn’t that something you liked so much about him? When you first brought him home?”

“Mom,” Dean muttered, embarrassed. He toyed with a sticker that was peeling off a banana in front of him. 

Mary resumed putting the groceries away. “I’d just hate to see you make a decision now that you regret later.”

He wanted to say something back to her, to tell her that he wasn’t making a stupid decision and that Cas had really hurt him and he didn’t know what to do about it. Instead he just said, “Thanks. Can I go now?”

She turned away toward the fridge, but nodded at him. When Dean got to the top of the stairs, instead of going back into Sam’s room, he stomped into his own bedroom, closing the door loudly behind him. 

 

———

 

That night, the family gathered after dinner to watch an old favorite in the living room. Mary and John snuggled on the couch together, Sam tucked under their feet holding a bowl of popcorn. Dean was seated in the chair off to the side, barely able to pay attention to the film at all. 

He couldn’t stop staring at his phone in his hands. He had it open to the last conversation he’d had with Cas- a whole week before. Nothing since then from either side. Cas hadn’t contacted him, and he hadn’t said anything to Cas. 

He kept reading the same words over and again, as if he could just think hard enough about it and Cas would send him something. Anything. Dean didn’t know what exactly he wanted: an apology, or something else. He would’ve killed for one of Cas’ daily texts about some knew fact he learned about honey farming or something. 

A big shoot-out scene started up on the television, shaking Dean back to attention. He turned his head up toward the screen, feelings his father’s eyes on him as he did. He knew while he was watching the movie, his father was gauging him to see if he was enjoying it. Dean made the effort to face enough smiles that it seemed like he was having a blast. 

About three-quarters into the moving, a rustling noise came from the porch. John immediately made to stand, but Mary’s grip on his legs held him down. 

“It’s okay, Dad,” Dean said, jerking himself upright, “I got it.”

He moved slowly toward the door and wished for a minute that he had a bat. Who could it possible be at 9 o’clock at night that was unwilling to ring the doorbell? Cautiously, he reached a hand to the knob and twisted the door open. 

The first thing he saw was a box filled with his things- little things, unimportant- with a note on top that said _Mr. Winchester_. That seemed oddly formal. It was resting delicately on the porch next to the door. 

The second thing he saw was a retreating figure on the walkway that lead to the house. Before Dean knew what he was doing, his feet had carried him down the stairs and he was yelling, “Cas!”

The boy stopped in his tracks, turning slowly. He looked at Dean silently, with eyes that seemed dull and broken. Dean’s chest grew tight at the sight of him. 

He was frozen in place, and Cas wasn’t moving. They stood there on the path for some moments, the whole world forgotten outside the two of them. 

Dean was the first one to take a step forward. “Do… do you want to come inside?” His voice caught in his throat. He felt disarmingly unsure of himself. 

Cas stared at him for a moment before responding. “Why?” 

“Because I…” Dean inched closer, and cleared his throat. His shoulders slumped. “Cas, I don’t want to break up.”

Cas said nothing, but his eyes looked twice as pained. 

“I’m sorry for what I said,” Dean offered hopefully. “I— I never should have…”

“You knew, Dean. You were the only person who never… who I could…” Cas shook his head and closed his eyes. “You knew what it meant to say those things.”

Dean raised a hand to Castiel, but stopped the motion halfway through. His voice was breaking now and he swallowed down the lump that was forming in his throat. “I know, I’m sorry. I was upset. I was angry about my dad. I’m sorry.”

Cas just nodded slowly, staring now at the grass beneath them. He expelled a loud sigh. “I apologize as well. I realize now that what I said was not especially… sensitive to you. I just, didn’t know what to do.”

Dean swallowed thick. “I know.”

And then it was silent again. A vague thought about Dean’s family and the movie crossed his mind, but they’d be find without him. All he wanted in the world right now was to take Cas’ hand and just sit next to him in the grass until the stars came out and it got too cold and they had to snuggle in close to each other. 

“So, do you want to come inside?” Dean repeated, reaching out to grab Cas’ hand. 

But Cas shook his head sadly at him. Dean’s heart dropped onto the ground. “I don’t think that would be a particularly good idea.”

“Why?” Dean tried to ask but the tears that burned behind his eyes were forcing themselves into his voice. 

“Dean. You hurt me very deeply. This week has been… It has been the worst I have ever had.”

Dean’s voice was filled with tears now and fear was crashing over him. “Me too, Cas. I missed you so much. I almost went crazy. I… I didn’t know how much I need you.”

It was true. The week had been slow torture for Dean. Not only did he have to deal with the fear of losing his father, and trying to be strong for his family, for Sammy and Mary so they could lean on him. Every time he’d felt overwhelmed by it all, the only thing he felt would calm him down was Cas. But he was too damn stubborn to do anything about it. 

Cas stayed resolute. “I do not like the idea of someone having such intense hold over my emotional well being.”

“Cas,” Dean moved forward again, but this time Cas took a step backward. “Cas. Don’t be ridiculous. What, so you want to break up because you like me too much?”

Cas looked away again, shrugged his shoulders. 

Dean pressed on, his voice regaining some of its strength. “Come on. That’s crazy. Just think about all of the good moments we’ve had. So many.” He paused for a second to look over Cas lovingly. “In your room? When we go out for drives in my dad’s car? That time under the tree in the park?

He spoke slowly, watching Cas’ features as they reacted to the memories. A smile tugged at his lips, but Cas seemed to bite it back, swallow it in its tracks before it can blossom. Dean takes this as enough of a sign and breathes in before he continues. 

“Cas, you have to take a little bit of bad with the good. That’s just what love is.”

And Cas’ eyes immediately shot up at that, because _that_ was a word that had not previously been in their vernacular. And Dean really hoped that that wasn’t the worst time in the world to drop it but also doesn’t care because he just wants to be able to touch Cas again. 

So when Cas stepped forward again so they were chest to chest and looked up at Dean with those giant innocent pure eyes of his, Dean felt like he could melt then and there. 

“I’m not…” Cas is trying, but he falters. “I’m not very good at this, Dean. At relationships. At being…” 

 _A boyfriend? In love?_ Dean wasn’t sure what the end of that sentence was but he couldn’t tell Cas quickly enough how wrong he was. 

“Yes, you are!” He was practically shouting, but he didn’t care. “You are the best at this, and I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else.”

Cas still looked up at him with that steely gaze, but his cheeks were tinging a color of pink that made him into the most endearing thing Dean had ever seen. 

He whispered gently to Dean, “I missed you.” 

Dean couldn’t wait any longer, tugged him in tight against his chest and allowed himself to feel relief at knowing that Cas was his again. “I missed you more.”

Dean was angry at himself for being so stupid over the past week. He promised himself that he’d never be so foolish again. 

“I… bought your father a card,” Cas added hesitantly. “It has a picture of a cactus holding a balloon and says Get Well Soon. Is that alright?”

Dean huffed a laughed as he tried to picture Castiel wandering the aisles of the drugstore, looking at different cards with cats and weird jokes he probably didn’t understand, trying to pick which one would be best for John. The idea made him press his lips into Cas’ soft mop of tousled hair. 

Behind them, a little chorus sang out with a couple of high-pitched squeals. Dean twisted his head back toward the house. They tried to duck down quickly, but Dean could see Mary and Sam’s heads before they threw themselves below the windowpane. John was standing tall behind them. He gave a small nod and a smile to his elder son. 

“C’mon,” Dean muttered after they had held each other long enough to feel normal again. He lowered his hands to grab Cas’ wrists and tugged him inside. They were already marching up the stairs before any of Dean’s family had time to catch them. 

“Boys,” Mary called as she walked into the foyer. “Where are you going? Don’t you want to watch the movie?”

“We’ll be upstairs if you need us!” Dean answered as he closed the door to his bedroom behind himself, and prayed his family wouldn’t chase behind him. 

Cas was waiting at the end of the bed, his face flush with excitement and uncertainty and probably a thousand other things, but most importantly, love. New love which was cool and fun, Dean was a big fan, could highly recommend. Dean walked up and took his face in both hands, and kissed him like he hadn’t seen him in a year. Cas’ hands grabbed him around the waist, pulling him in tighter. They couldn’t be close enough. 

Dean leaned back a bit and laid his hands on Cas’ chest to push him down towards the mattress. Before Cas even knew what was happening, Dean was crawling up his body, grinding into him and pulling some very nice sounds from Cas. 

His Cas. His favorite person. God, what an idiot he’d been. 

Dean pulled himself back to let himself just look over Cas’ face. He’d never seen him so… emotive before. It was adorable. He liked it. He gave a little kiss to the end of Cas’ nose to note his appreciation. The way Cas’ head quirked to the side curiously made him do it again. 

They both stilled momentarily when they heard Mary’s voice from the bottom of the stairs again. What she said was indistinguishable, but the response that came from John came in clear as a bell.

“Jesus, Mary, stop worrying about damn door. What’s he gonna do, get ‘im pregnant?”

Dean bit his lips to contain the laughter. He turned back to Castiel whose face was still blank. He hadn’t heard a sound from downstairs. He was too busy staring at Dean, reclaiming with his eyes all the features he’d been missing for too long. 

Dean leaned in and gave him another soft, sweet kiss on the lips. “Let’s never do that again, huh?”

“Agreed.”


End file.
